As The Candle Dies
by where-my-heart-resides
Summary: SLASH! DxH. I remember that night. That night, when you blew out the candle, and said, oh so seductively, “I like it better when it's dark.” But now, the wax is dripping. And the light is dimming. The candle I'm holding is going out.
1. Chapter 1

Hi. This story is going to be very introspective on Harry's part. The first chapter is after Draco's death. The rest are going back in time, to before Harry and Draco even fell in love. WARNING: This is SLASH. As in boy love. As in Harry and Draco, sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g. Get it? You've been warned, so flames are not merited. For the rest of you, please enjoy.

Disclaimer: Not mine.

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Your eyes are like crystals. Sparkling wholly in the sockets that contain them. Carefully mapping their way through my mind. Caressing my soul. Or, that is how it was before your soul ceased to inhabit your body. Now your eyes are like dull pebbles, filling your head hollowly. They don't reach to me anymore. They seem to be content just staring blankly at the ceiling.

Dim lights fill the room. Candle light invades my soul. Reminding me of you. Forcing me to think back to the times when life wasn't so complicated. When you still lived. When you still breathed. When you still loved me. You were my looking glass. When I looked at you, I saw myself. My pain. My sorrow. My joy. My laughter. And after a while, it seemed as if every emotion I felt was because of you. Not for you. Not with you. Because of you.

But now you're gone. My looking glass is gone. You took those pebbles that all of them call eyes, and dropped them into my soul, shattering the smooth surface of my reflection. And I can't see anymore. I can't see you. I can't even see me. I'm so frustrated. Irritation swimming through my body, I kick the table. It shakes, knocking the milk carton over.

Milk splashes across the table. I watch as it forms a pool, spreading quickly. I watch as it rolls off of the edge. I watch as the remainder of the milk drips from the jagged edges of the now empty milk carton. In a way, it reminds me of you. So perfect one moment, and then, in one little tilt of the table, lying broken and uncontained across the smooth table top. I dip my fingers into the cool liquid, and bring them back up, watching as the milk that had gathered on my fingers slips away, as if it were never there in the first place. Leaving behind nothing but a small damp spot, to show that it had indeed made a home there.

Just like you. You were mine. And then, in a split second, you were gone. Leaving behind nothing but an imprint on my soul. Telling me that you had made a home there. The hardest part of knowing that you're gone is knowing that you took your love with you. Not that you won't be here to love me. Just knowing that the feeling that I had grown so fond of is gone forever.

Shadows splay themselves across the walls, dancing. Taunting me. Letting me know that there is someone out there that is happy. Somebody who is living normally, even though you're gone. Why or how, I do not know. Because it is impossible that the world is normal. It is impossible that no one cares. No one but me.

I long for your arms. The ones that seemed so strong... so sure of themselves. The ones that would wrap around me unhesitatingly. My heart used to know those arms. No, not my mind. My heart. But now that you're gone, it seems as if my heart has stopped functioning. All it does is beat. Slowly. Evenly. Dully.

Draco Malfoy, I remember. I remember that night. That night, when you blew out the candle, and said, oh so seductively, "I like it better when it's dark." But now, the wax is dripping. And the light is dimming. The candle I'm holding is going out. And this time, you aren't blowing it out. It's dying on it's own. And I'm not going to stop it.

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Okay, the entire story WILL NOT BE LIKE THIS! Next chapter, we will go back in time, to before Harry and Draco fell in love. We will follow them on their journey of love. There will be tears, and there will be laughter. It will be more interesting. This is just an introductory chapter!


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you for all of the positive responses on the last chapter! I'm really glad you all liked it. I wasn't sure of it myself, but I'm glad that you all found it good. Okay, so, in this chapter, we'll be going back in time, to before Harry and Draco were together. The purpose of this is to 1) Give the story a plot. Lol. And 2) To make thedeath of Draco even more... real. If you know what was going on in the past, it makes the present a lot harder to deal with. Enjoy! Also, this is in sixth year, NOT following along with HBP. THERE WILL BE OOTP SPOILERS. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

Disclaimer: Not mine.

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"Well, if it isn't Potty, Weasel, and the mudblood." Malfoy's voice hits my ears, sending a stab of annoyance shivering down my spine.

"Wow. That was _so_ creative. Because I've never heard you say _that_ before." I say sarcastically. I can tell that behind me, Ron is glaring at Malfoy with that air of satisfaction that he always has when I insult him, and Hermione is smirking slightly. It's surprising how well she smirks, especially for somebody with such a 'teacher's pet' reputation.

Malfoy doesn't reply right away, but he just stares at me. I suddenly feel very uncomfortable, him staring at me like that. He knows, and I know. This is a weakness of mine. I can't stand it when he looks at me like that. Like he's reading my mind. Like he can see my most personal thoughts. It doesn't seem to bother Ron and Hermione at all. Just me. Or maybe the only reason that it effects me, is because he's looking at me. He's not looking at them. He's looking at me.

"They say that sarcasm is the lowest form of wit." Malfoy says, bringing me back to reality. He smirks that Malfoy smirk, the one that drives me insane, and waits for my reply.

Sometimes I wonder why we do this. It's a battle of words. It's not as much vicious as it is a game. We make our comment, and then politely retreat while the other makes his comeback. And we just do that for a while. Never causing any real pain to each other. Because it's gotten to the point where I don't think that either one of us really care. So, I wonder why we do this. Everyday. It's so completely pointless. So why do we do it? I suddenly notice that Malfoy is looking at me expectantly, waiting for my reply. I erase the thoughts from my mind, and continue the argument.

"At least I have wit at all." Ah, that was pathetic. Malfoy knows it too, judging by the way that he's smirking like a madman.

"Seemed to have lost your touch Potter. I guess I've won this round..." He grins, something I've never seen him do before. He turns around, and walks off, those apes that he calls friends following. I turn to face Ron and Hermione. They don't look angry at Malfoy, or even disappointed that we lost. They seem to just look very confused.

Then I realize. What Malfoy said. So he knows too. He knows that this is just a game of words. That this is just a harmless competition. Ron and Hermione still think that we're trying to hurt each other, so that comment _I guess I've won this round..._ must have been very confusing to them. I smile a little, finding amusement in the fact that Malfoy and I are sharing an inside... something. It's not exactly an inside joke... it's more of an inside thought.

"What's so funny Harry?" Ron asks. Hermione just gives me one of those I'm-a-girl-and-I-know-what-you're-thinking-about looks.

"Nothing. Let's go." I say. I realize what I just thought, and shake my head, disgusted with myself. I cannot believe that I just thought something that resembled a friendly thought about Malfoy.

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Ron is snoring loudly, as is Neville. Everybody in the dormitory is asleep. But somehow I can't rest. I'm stuck here, staring at my ceiling. Truly, the ceiling is kind of amazing. A dark, blood red, bearing down on you. The texture of it is swirling about, forming pattens and shapes all over the place. And suddenly, all of the little patterns jump together, forming the structured face of Draco Malfoy.

I groan, and roll over, burying my head in my pillow. I breath in my own scent, and suddenly wonder what Malfoy's pillow would smell like. And I suddenly find myself hating the night. When every thing's quiet, and I'm trapped in a world of my thoughts. Where I can't escape from my mind. No matter how hard I try, I can't get Malfoy's face out of my mind.

And what's worse, this isn't the first time that this has happened. Ever since Sirius died, I've been retreating into myself more and more. And now, I'm almost always trapped. Dwelling on things. During the day, I can try to engage myself in some other activity and forget it. But during the night, there are no distractions. And my heart takes over. It replays everything that I don't want to see. I can't sleep. I'm too wrapped up in my own memories.

I know it's no use to try to sleep, so I walk over the the window seat. I sit down, the cushion sinking with my weight. I stare outside. The sky is covered with large, fluffy, black clouds. Only the corner of the moon is visible beneath the immense blackness that floats in front of it. It's a full moon tonight. My thoughts drift to Remus. It must be so hard for him. Being forced, every full moon, to think of his three best friends. The ones that had, at one point, put a lot of time and effort into helping him. Now, one of them was a traitor, and the other two had met their demise. To be the only one left. To be the one plagued by those memories... That must be so hard.

I sit back, and watch as the clouds shift in and out of focus, the moon becoming more and more visible. And for the second time that night, I see Malfoy's face. The clouds move in every which way, twisting around and around, before forming his face up in the sky. I groan, and hit my head against the wall that's behind me. I don't like Malfoy- _especially_ not like that. It's just those eyes. I can't forget them. The way that his gaze makes my stomach squirm, or makes my face become flushed, or the way it sends shivers down my spine. I can't forget it. I wonder why he looks at me like that...

And the worst part about him staring at me: I kind of... like it.

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So, how was it? Tell me! I want reviews! Was it too OOC, or whatever? Or did you like it? I want to know! R&R!


	3. AN

**A/N: **Sorry, dear readers, this is _not_ a chapter. I am sad to say that I am _leaving_ fanfiction. My life has gotten really hectic, and I have really just lost interest. Also, when I started fanfiction, it was just a fun pastime. Then, I found that I really LOVE to write. I tried writing a few stories of my own, and I realized that I write just as well, if not better, with my own characters. So, I've stopped writing fanfiction so that I can focus on other things. I'm really, really sorry.

BUT, whether the story ends here or not is up to you. I'm going to choose one person to take over the story for me. Requirements are:

You have to have written at least one romance story in the past.

You have to stick to the pairings that I have chosen.

You have to update relatively quickly.

You cannot have more than 2 other long running stories going at the same time.

Also, this story is special. It uses a LOT of imagery and phylosiphy. Yes, I know I spelt that wrong. I want to see writing that illustrates that you know strong themes, and can be shown clearly. I want all emotions to be clear and defined, unless the emotion is unknown even to the character. I really, really want this to turn out. I'm willing to bet that I get less offers on this story than any others.

I know that these are a lot of requirements, but I want to leave this story in good hands. Please PM me (don't put it in a review) if you're interested. Put your name and age on the message, as well as why you want to take over the story. I will announce to the readers who has won after I pick. If nobody applies, or I don't like the ones that do apply, the story _will end here_. I am not going to continue it. It's up to you.

Once again, I'm sorry for leaving. Really, I am.


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